Let Your Hearts Be Light
by Maribor
Summary: Post "The Doctor, the Widow and the Wardrobe". Too long to be a drabble. Too short to be a short story. My OT3 11/Amy/Rory. A short. sappy, Christmas-y, morning after one-shot. ...I always figured the Doctor stayed for more than Christmas dinner.


**Let Your Hearts Be Light**

He was unaccustomed to being awakened by kisses but by God he could get used to it.

Rory had grown a slight stubble overnight, it tickled but it didn't hurt and mostly just rubbed against the Doctor's own burgeoning beard.

"Good morning." he said, his lips pressed against the Doctor's neck before adding. "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas to you as well." The Doctor said in a soft voice. Morning voices were soft. Waking up next to your lover required a gentle tone, one still coated in sleep, he remembered that. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed it.

"Last night was..." Rory trailed off, his eyes, which the Doctor could never decide if they were blue or green or just an ever changing combination of both, met the Time Lords.

"Wonderful." Amy supplied. She stretched like a pleased and lazy cat and from the corner of his eye he saw one of her graceful arms reach upwards, interrupting the beam of sunlight that streamed through their bedroom window. She flexed her fingers before letting her arm fall to drape across his midsection.

"Yes, it was wasn't it."

Bookended by Ponds, surrounded by their scent and warmth and human-y pheromones. The room was perfumed by their arousal from the night before, their contentedness of this morning and the faint smell of gingerbread cookies they had snacked on as a post coital treat.

Amy's lips at the base of his neck. Amy's lips on his shoulder. Amy's lips on the curve of his tricep. Rory's lips on his, on his clavicle, on his cheek.

There was no pressure, no one insisting or demanding or jockeying for position. Which was good. The Doctor had no demands, no requirements. He only wanted. Wanted their touches, wanted their bodies against his, wanted their company. He hadn't known he could be filled with such want.

If they slipped back into making love again it would be nearly wordless, easy. Twelve hundred years old and he had found something completely new. The three of them had created their own language together, a language uniquely human and Time Lord. A language of gestures and sighs and smiles and glances. A language that stopped the hourglass. This was a linear he could bear.

"Can we...?" Rory asked. He whispered it into the shell of his ear just before leaving a kiss there. The Doctor shivered, too happy to respond.

He turned over onto his back to sample Amy's mouth, it was impossible to divide himself between the two of them but so very, very much fun to try. For moments last evening he wished there were two of _him_. But he quickly banished the thought when he realized how jealous he'd be of his other self.

He kissed her and he felt her smile against him. He felt her lips draw back in that distinct Amy happiness. Felt the puffs of breath against his skin as she laughed through her nose in that silly way he'd noticed immediately the day he brought her aboard.

"To put it another way," she began, following her husband's line of thinking. "Presents now? Or presents later?"

Rory's hand was on his hip and slowly moving inwards. Amy was pressed to his side, breasts soft and inviting against him, leg snaking between his.

As with everything, he talked a good game. He liked to help them, his humans, celebrate Christmas. But he never took the time for himself. Never stopped. Never stayed. Never sampled. Never enjoyed. It was about them, not him.

But this time. This Christmas, he had indulged and been indulged ten fold. Oh, he was so glad he had stayed. So glad he had come.

Pulling them both against him he made up his mind that they would have to drag him from this bed. If it was up to him, he'd never, ever leave.

They had gifted themselves to him and how he'd enjoyed unwrapping them. For now, they were his. His stocking. His surprise 'neath the tree.

"Presents now, Ponds, please. Presents now." He begged them though he didn't have to. Without discussion they disappeared beneath the blankets again all silently agreeing anything beyond the boundary of the bedroom would keep.

For the Doctor, Christmas with its fairy lights and wrapping paper and falling snow had come early. Everything he needed was right here, everything he wanted was captured within the two Ponds on either side of him. His hearts were light and they beat out a steady and happy rhythm of comfort and joy.

Comfort and joy.

Comfort and joy.


End file.
